Climbing Mountains

I’m a lot calmer now. There are so many times I wish I could be more in control of my environment. If I could only keep the dog from eating Brendan’s spaghetti that I feel so good about making for him (it even had meat in it…). If I could only stop my two year old son from screaming and crying for no apparent reason… something that doesn’t involve going back outside and jumping in puddles or spilling water everywhere as he helps with the dishes. If I could only just cure my wife’s baby nausea and have enough food in the house to match her voracious appetite. If only it would stop raining on my clean laundry that is “drying” on the line.

It is such a ride to watch my emotions happen, mainly anger and resentment… not necessarily a fun ride, that’s for sure. As a 9 on the Enneagram, that anger is always hanging out close by, ready to explode. Now that the dog was yelled at and banished to the back yard, Brendan is talking to himself in bed happily, my tea is drank, the dishes are done, and some semblance of calm rests on the house, the heat can die down under the water kettle that is my anger.

That’s so what it is, too… a kettle. I start rumbling and building up pressure as the heat turns up, and then its only a matter of time before I am boiling and whistling away. God forbid that this doesn’t last too long, or it is misery for myself and any around me. It happens so often on these restless days when all I feel like I’m doing is waiting. Waiting for the rain to stop, waiting for a friend to call, waiting to start working again, waiting for Brendan to take a nap, waiting for Kat’s nausea to end. Ugh, get me out of here.

Yesterday, my stir-craziness was at its maximum level so I did the only thing a sane person would do… climb a mountain. I picked the closest one. Tumalo Mountain and gave myself all of two hours to go up and back down. Of course it was raining and so windy my fingers kept going numb. I had my bag of raisins to eat (as my stomach only contained what was left of the half peanut butter sandwhich I had for lunch) which I had to keep alternating hands while I shoved the other in my pocket. It was cold, and my 9 kept telling me I didn’t have to go all the way to the top. Well, I did anyway. 90 minutes to go up… and I was supposed to be home in a half hour.

So I ran back down. 30 minutes. I think my knees, hamstrings, and most other muscles in my legs were about to give out as I hit the trailhead. I am feeling it today, but it feels good. So while all I want to do is check out from all the waiting, anger, and stress, I suppose mountain climbing works too.

I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit. – Dawna Markova